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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794843">Good Livery of Honour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherGhostwriter/pseuds/JustAnotherGhostwriter'>JustAnotherGhostwriter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU: Royalty, Another fanfic of a fanfic. I'm making a bad name for myself, F/M, Gen, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Alphonse Elric, Ishbalan | Ishvalan Edward Elric, Xerxian Alphonse Elric, Xerxian Edward Elric</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:55:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherGhostwriter/pseuds/JustAnotherGhostwriter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The tales of New Xerxes' heir and his younger brother, his Amestrian princess fiance and their various friends and family members in the small moments when they're not trying to stop an ancient Dwarf in a Flask from using a country as a transmutation circle. </p><p>Or: fan-inserts to thephilosophersapprentice's royalty AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alphonse Elric &amp; Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric &amp; Edward Elric &amp; Van Hohenheim, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophersapprentice/gifts">thephilosophersapprentice</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879420">I Give You Heaven's Vows (And Those Are Mine)</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophersapprentice/pseuds/thephilosophersapprentice">thephilosophersapprentice</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no real excuse for doing this instead of my other WIPs. Or doing this at all. I'd say that this is the last time I'm doing fanfic of a fanfic, but even my socks know I'm lying, by this point. Please read the original fic, first, or none of this will make sense. Happy FMA day!</p><p>This chapter is Hohenheim's POV of the attack that happens in Chapter 4.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, is a good livery of honour.”<br/>― William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well.</em></p><hr/><p>In the distance, some commotion made Hohenheim half glance up from the papers spread across the desk in his study. Attention still mostly on the documents, he turned back, trusting that whatever was happening outside was under control. And then, moments later, the door burst open without much of a knock, and Hohenheim shot to his feet instantly. Every person in the palace, save perhaps Edward when he was in a particularly foul mood, had the utmost respect for his closed study door unless there was some crisis.</p><p>Maria tumbled in, her face slightly ashen. “Sir, come quick – Ed’s been attacked.”</p><p>Hohenheim was moving forward before the terror could fully register; before the outcry of alarm and horror from all the souls housed within him reached his attention. He let the souls’ emotions crash over him, because the confusing noise of their fear, anger and desperation left his own emotions – much more painful to deal with – drowned out for the moment. He wasn’t thinking of anything, mind full of white noise and a collective Xerxian panic, as he flew down the hall. Luckily, the trip was short and guards parted when they heard him coming, saving him the time of having to push through. A few souls swore in Hohenheim’s head when he took in the sight of Edward sprawled across the ground, already smeared in too much blood, an entire chair leg piercing <em>right through </em>his side.</p><p><em>Oh, our son! </em>somebody within him moaned, deep and keening.</p><p>Hohenheim fell more than he knelt down beside his son, and for a moment he was too terrified to touch, like the early days when Ed had been so <em>tiny</em>, and the thought of marring that small form with the hands of a monster had terrified him into distance.</p><p><em>Lift him onto your lap so you can steady him. Check the wound, </em>Babak commanded in Hohenheim’s head, pushing through the other souls in the practised, demanding way of a physician. <em>Hurry, Hohenheim, go!</em></p><p>Hohenheim snapped out of his paralysis and reached for his son, scooping him onto his lap. He tried to be careful, but Edward still let out a tempered noise of pain that cut straight through Hohenheim’s heart. Ed did <em>not </em>vocalise pain or discomfort easily, so for even that to have slipped out... Hohenheim probed the wound as he’d been directed, feeling the blood leak into his shirt and spread all over his fingers.</p><p><em>Make him take a breath, </em>Babak ordered, knowing that Hohenheim knew to do this, but giving the man an anchor in the insanity of the moment that was holding his son as he bled. It was, in many ways, worse than being on the other side of the door during Ed’s automail surgery.</p><p>“Edward, take a breath for me.” Ed obeyed, and almost immediately started coughing, his upper body curling automatically and his automail fingers grasping at Hohenheim’s leg. “Try to relax,” he tried to soothe, knowing that he could do nothing but bring more pain before he could take it from his eldest. “Alphonse, can you pull that out on my mark?”</p><p>“Yes, Dad.” Alphonse was pale and wide-eyed in worry, but he was steady where he sat, and Hohenheim felt a quick rush of pride for his boy.</p><p>He felt, keenly against his chest, how Ed’s breath hitched, but he still took a moment to ensure Winry wouldn’t be harmed by what was about to transpire. “Miss Rockbell, you may want to look away. This won’t be pleasant.”</p><p>“I can handle it.” There was a focus as steely as Al’s in her eyes, and it made Hohenheim both pleasantly surprised and also sad that another young person could know the meaning of an expression like that.</p><p>“That does not mean you should have to.”</p><p><em>Let her help – Alphonse may not be able to pull it out on his own,</em> Esfir, once a midwife, commanded.</p><p>“Very well,” Hohenheim told both Esfir and Winry. “If Alphonse needs help, help him.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t we wait for medical assistance?” Winry’s resolve crumbled below the sudden concern and hesitation.</p><p>“I’m not leaving my son to suffer any longer than he has to.” Ed was shaking in his hold, and it was painful enough for Hohenheim to experience, let alone Ed himself. “Alphonse?”</p><p>With a nod, his youngest grasped at the protruding piece of wood and began to pull and Ed turned into nothing but a ball of tension, kept uncurled only by Hohenheim’s hands on him. When she saw Al was struggling, Winry reached for the wood and began to pull herself, increasing the speed by which the leg began to pull free. Edward made a choked sound that barely even seemed human, fingers digging into Hohenheim hard enough to leave bruises that would hurt for days, and Hohenheim held his son down, grimly, tremulously, while the other two teens pulled out the impalement.</p><p>Ed shuddered bodily when it came free, panting for breath he couldn’t seem to catch, soft whines on every exhale that should never have been on his breath. The wound was dreadful, but even as despair welled up, Esfir spoke.</p><p><em>Use me, Hohenheim, </em>she demanded, firmly. <em>Please. It would be a relief to go this way. Heal our son, please</em>. She’d lost all six of her children when Xerxes fell, and her grief over them melded with her grief and love for Ed so strongly that Hohenheim could do nothing but choke out an indebted thanks to her. He quickly peeled the torn cloth at Edward’s back away from the dreadful injury, then covered the exit wound with his hand. Esfir pushed forward into his grasp, and he felt her fill him up with power that he channelled straight into the injury at hand, thinking desperately of the alkahesteric array. Ed slumped against him, taking in deep breaths again.</p><p>“What did you just do?” Winry was staring at him in mouth-open shock and Hohenheim almost winced, the full implications of her being there finally hitting home.</p><p>He left her for the moment, ignoring her question, and tried to flit his hands over his son to check that the alkahestry had worked and for any other injuries.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Edward groused, pushing himself up. But Hohenheim stopped him from moving away and instead pulled him close against his chest, relishing in the breath and the heartbeat and the warmth.</p><p>“Let me be a sentimental old man for a minute, <em>glyko mou</em>. I could’ve lost you.”</p><p>Even saying it out loud seemed cataclysmic, and Al let out a little sound before leaning across to capture them both in a hug, his fingers, like Hohenheim’s, stained in Ed’s blood. Ed relaxed against Hohenheim’s chest, closing his eyes and gripping Al’s shirt with one arm that was still vaguely shaking. Hohenheim’s soul and souls were all jittering in relief.</p><p>Eventually, they had to let one another go. As Al pulled away, Winry surged forward and tugged at his tunic, taking in the dark, twisted scar that now marred Ed’s side as a reminder to all about fear, caution and the suddenness with which the universe could render itself in two. As if they needed another reminder after Tariquah.</p><p>Winry threw herself into a hug and Edward returned it at once, seeming a little surprised but not adverse to the contact. “I’m so glad you’re okay, but what the hell just happened?”</p><p>Hohenheim met her eye, saw the genuine relief there that was hiding the burning confusion and suspicion, and, although he didn’t regret for a second what he’d done for his son, found himself lamenting that the secret had to come out like this.</p><p>“We may not have been completely honest with you, Miss Rockbell,” he admitted, and Edward snorted in amusement. “The truth is that I <em>am</em> the philosopher’s stone created on the last day of Old Xerxes,” he told her, gently.</p><p>Her eyes widened. “What...? That’s not poss...” She looked again at Ed’s wound and, to Hohenheim’s surprise, traced it almost subconsciously. Even more surprising was that Ed didn’t squirm away, demanding loudly that he was fine. “Will you tell me <em>how </em>that is possible, please? And... what that all means?”</p><p>Hohenheim nodded. “Let’s first get cleaned up and reconvene in the study.” Colonel Mustang and his lieutenant arrived at that moment, eyes sweeping the scene as they moved to Winry’s side. “I think it’s safest if everybody has a guard. Miss Rockbell, I trust yours to keep you safe. Captain Ross.” Maria gave him a salute. “Please take another two guards and escort Al to his room and then to my study once he’s changed.”</p><p>Winry stood obediently and slipped into the protective circle of her bodyguards, but Al lingered on the floor for a moment, touching his brother’s shoulder one last time as though to reassure himself Ed was fine. Then he stood and went with Maria, Denny and Kelim. Ed pushed himself to his feet, and, this time, Hohenheim let him go, following a moment later and trying not to wince at the soreness in his knees and the places that Ed had gripped. Ed swayed a little, but before Hohenheim could reach over he was fended off.</p><p>“I’m <em>fine</em>, relax.”</p><p>Hohenheim sighed, and was about to tell Ed that he’d accompany him to his room himself, when Illai appeared, face grim. “I heard,” the Ishvalan said, succinctly. He appraised Ed critically.</p><p>“<em>I’m. Fine.</em>” Ed said, exasperated.</p><p>“Please escort him to get cleaned up, and then to my study,” Hohenheim requested quietly. And then, quieter still as Ed turned with a huff towards his room, he added, “Watch him. He’s healed, but still shaky, weak, and probably sore.”</p><p>Illai nodded, face dark, and then loped to catch up with his charge. Hohenheim dismissed the guards warily, and turned to go and remove the stain of his son’s blood from himself with hands that shook ever so slightly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Because it wouldn't be FMA Day without a little bit of tentatively-forming Edwin. I based Ed's earrings off of his look from <a href="https://obersten.tumblr.com/tagged/alkimia-shop-au">this</a> amazing Xerxian!Ed AU. </p><p><b>Warnings</b> for mentions of home piercing jobs. Please see a professional for doing piercings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em>It is in us to plant thine honour where<br/>
We please to have it grow.”<br/>
― William Shakespeare, All's Well That Ends Well. </em></p>
<hr/><p>Even though she’d only known the brothers for a few, short days, Winry still thought the sight of them both with dark hair as incredibly <em>unsettling</em>. The sight of Edward, in particular, made her chest pang a little; his hair had been so very long and very golden, and the drastic change in its length and colour was, as ridiculous as it may sound even to her, as real a sign as any that things in Amestris were <em>serious</em>. She couldn’t put her finger on it, exactly – it wasn’t that he looked less attractive or more dangerous or more otherworldly with his gold eyes and dark hair and dark skin. Maybe it was because he reminded her a little too closely to Mustang in more than just general temperament. Maybe she was looking for the shadow of Ishval in him that usually hung on her bodyguard’s shoulders, following like a ghost. Which was ridiculous – Ed was the good-as-prince of a nation with the most Ishvalan refugees in the world. Maybe it was the way she’d seen something ancient in Hohenheim’s gaze when he’d seen his son look so different so that he could go off to try and save a nation from a near-impossible evil that had devastated the man’s first home.</p><p>Or, maybe, it was just a sign of how much was changing that Winry’s brain could fixate on. Even Granny had commented that she was taking the sudden order to be married off to a Xerxian heir<em> too</em> calmly. Winry had been honest when she’d told everybody that she felt fine about it – as fine as she could feel, knowing<em> why</em> she was being forced out of her own country under pretence – but she was starting to suspect that had been because it had all been too<em> big</em> for her to handle. Having her fiancé, who now had a personality and flaws and so many virtues instead of just a vague title, agree to help her save her nation days after they’d met... Having him ask her to help him cut his hair so he wouldn’t stand out... Having him give her that proud, approving look when she’d<em> demanded</em> she go along and help her citizens, disgraced figurehead of a princess or no... Hell, even having him hesitantly but steadily show her his automail and his scars when she’d asked, when he could have refused her despite their engagement...</p><p>It was all<em> real</em>, now. Ed was helping Amestris more for Xerxes’ sake than Amestris’, let alone<em> Winry’s</em>, but he was<em> helping</em>. So were Al and Hohenheim and, by extension, most of Xerxes. The gratitude in her was powerful and strong and smouldering, but she couldn’t deny that the parts of her that wondered<em> will I even have an heir to marry when this is all over</em> did not do so with hope that she would return to Amestris with the obligatory engagement annulled.</p><p>“Winry?”</p><p>She looked up from the book she was reading to pass the time, already packed and ready to head out at a moment’s notice, and found herself still startling when she caught sight of new-haired Edward.</p><p>“Hi, Ed.” She shifted a little on the settee and he took the invite to sit down, a small box in his hands. Winry was starting to learn to be quiet to give the looks like the one on Ed’s face time to turn themselves into words. Still, when he struggled in silence for a while, not looking at her, she prompted, “Is something wrong?”</p><p>“No,” he said, his tone reassuring. “No, it’s just...” He sighed, his shoulders slumped, and he turned to her with the usual directness she had a feeling he’d been trying to hold back out of... tact. Or politeness. Or something. She much preferred the Ed she’d met – the one who said whatever, and dealt with the consequences of those words if and when they came. “What Bradley and the Hommonculous are doing... it could change... a lot of things. One of us could die.” Winry hid her flinch. “Both of us could. Or it could change the politics of Amestris so much that our current engagement is no longer valid.” She nodded, silently, agreeing with his words, curious about what he was about to say. “So... uh... I...” He opened the box to show her, and she leaned over, curiously.</p><p>Inside were three earrings. One was larger – gold that dropped down like a tear and ended in a beautiful, bright blue stone. One was a gold stud with the smallest of white stones in the centre. And the other was a hoop made of silver, carved with tiny Old Xerxian words.</p><p>“I heard that people in Amestris give people rings when they get engaged?” Ed said, and even on his skin, she could tell he was blushing. “In Xerxes... well, with all the different cultures here, it varies, but Old Xerxes had the tradition of exchanging earrings upon engagement. Either passed down in the respective families, or made by hand by the current person. Um... This one” – he touched the dangling one – “was what Hohenheim gave to Mom when he proposed. This one” – he indicated the small gold stud – “Mom had from when she was small. I think it was her mother’s. Al has the other of each of these pairs.”</p><p>“You made this one,” Winry guessed, surprise and gratitude welling from her heart into her tone as she tentatively reached out to touch the hoop just once, letting her fingers trail over the bumps and ridges of the writing.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ed confirmed, with a little shrug. “I’m not – you don’t have to wear them,” he said, quickly, turning the box around and around in his hands. “I just – you already have two piercings. And... It just... I spoke to Hohenheim, and if I <em>do </em>die, you’ll still be welcome here. Not just as a refugee. This is – Al and Hohenheim will honour our agreement.” Winry looked at him, unsure of what emotion was welling in her chest. Ed looked nervous and serious and fierce. “And I just thought that this could be a way to... signify that. But you don’t... have to. The letters making the engagement are all in record. So.”</p><p>“Thank you,” she said, her throat thick. “I’m – you – thank you. I’d be honoured to wear these.”</p><p>Ed held out the box to her as Winry slipped off the two earrings she was currently wearing, putting them in her pocket for safekeeping before she reached carefully for the earrings in her box. She put the dangling one in her right ear and the stud in her left and stopped Ed when he made to close the box on the third one. He gave her a confused look.</p><p>“You have a piercing high in your ear,” she said, reaching heedlessly to touch it. It had been mostly hidden when he had long hair, but now it was clearly visible, glinting silver against the light. “I think... I got these two because I liked how Riza’s looked,” she explained. “I like how yours looks, so I think I’ll get that one, too.” She bit her lip for a moment. “Would you help, please?”</p><p>“<em>Now</em>?” Ed blinked at her in shock. “Wh- I mean, I could just alter it so it’s clip-on...”</p><p>Winry shook her head. “No, thank you. I’d like to pierce it. Properly.” She looked him dead in the eye. “I’m not worried about it hurting. Or bleeding.”</p><p>Ed hesitated, keeping her gaze for a long time. “We can get Alphonse to heal it when we’re done,” he said, softly. “He’s better at alkahestry than I am.”</p><p>Winry nodded, still solemn, and picked up the last earring. It was slightly misshapen, she realised as she ran her fingers over it. And she loved it more for that fact. Ed got up to get a candle, but Riza stepped out of the polite alcove she’d been standing in and handed Ed one of the lighters she kept on hand for Roy. Ed thanked her, created a thin bit of metal from the walls with alchemy, and then returned, heating the tip of the metal. Winry found herself gripping at the edge of Ed’s sash even before he pierced it, but she managed to keep her reaction to a minimum.</p><p>“Okay?” Ed asked her, close and warm and a little concerned as he slipped the earring he’d made into the new, fresh, burning hole.</p><p>Winry sniffed and nodded and took deep breaths. “Yeah.” When he was done, she grabbed for his hand, squeezing once and meeting his eye again. “Thank you.”</p><p>He gave her a smile that was small but true, and she found herself mirroring it. “Let’s find Al so he can yell at me for being a dumbass and heal that up for you.”</p><p>He didn’t let go of her hand until they were well on their way down the passageway. There was a new weight in Winry’s one ear, and a new sting in the other, and both settled into her consciousness easily.</p>
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